Grenade- The solitary ugly girl always found with a group of hotties. If the grenade doesn’t get any action, then neither does anyone else.

I am a good wingman. I have the grenade scars in my memory to prove it. The most recent grenade I took was for my best friend who wasn’t having much luck with the ladies of late. We were in the Poconos two years ago during the winter and met up with two women. Stephanie was bleach blond, athletic all around, yummy little snow bunny in a sweet tight package. Martha was the grenade. My best friend of course wanted Stephanie which meant I had to take one for the team. And take one for the team I did.. I had built my friend up and even fed him some clever banter to help him ease onto Stephanie’s plentiful slopes.

Once they retired to her room I was left with Martha by the fireplace. Martha was your typical winter grenade. A real walrus dressed up in a big tent of a parka that once unzipped, an avalanche of fleshy bits literally rolled out in a cascade of pale blubbery untouched fat. All that pale flesh reflecting the roaring fire made for a horrific Nature Channel documentary. I went in like a frenzied polar bear just kissing and biting any flab I could sink my teeth into. I played my part and even roared a few times to let Martha know I was into it. I held back the wine churning in my stomach when I landed upon a forgotten roll of fat that had not seen soap in ages.

The worst of it was Martha had gotten around probably by playing the grenade all her life. I was fingering her, trying to get her off as quickly as I could. My techniques though weren’t working. The problem was her gut wasn’t allowing me the proper angle of penetration. She was becoming more frustrated. I was three fingers deep into her with room to spare.

This quickly escalated into a a vigorous fisting for my survival. I didn’t want to go down on her and be trapped for a lifetime between the chubbiest thighs I had ever seen. I was fast and furious with my fist pumping. Thankfully it was working and she was getting very wet and very sweaty. Just as I was relieved she pushed me down and mounted me anyway. The combination of the fireplace, the sex, her weight, and all encompassing flesh was really overheating me. I grinned through it and rifled through my porn bank as fast as I could. The combination of wine, walrus, and heat was too much even for me, and I ended up passing out at some point. I try not to think about what happened to me when I was out. Let’s just say that Martha stalked me for a good solid six months, and my friend dated Stephanie for three months after that. That bastard still owes me a beer.